


The First Day

by ineffable_bisexual



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Author Projecting onto Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Needs a Hug (Good Omens), Cutting, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Sorry, M/M, My First Fanfic, Self-Harm, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-21
Updated: 2019-09-21
Packaged: 2020-10-25 00:44:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20715287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ineffable_bisexual/pseuds/ineffable_bisexual
Summary: After the Apocanope, Crowley is struggling to figure out what he's supposed to do next. Aziraphale is there to save him from himself.





	The First Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first time ever writing a fic! :) Please be kind, I did my best <3 (except for the title lol sorry)

Crowley’s eyes cracked open slowly, his brain waking up and working hard to orient itself to its current situation. He was in his own bed - good. He was alone and his flat was quiet and peaceful - also good. But his arms stung and hurt and he couldn’t remember why, why - oh. He looked down and registered the dozens of long, deep cuts that he had inflicted on himself the night before. Technically, this was not good but in Crowley’s twisted, self-injurious mind, it was actually great. He dragged his fingers across each cut and breathed a sigh of relief as each one burned at his touch. Yes, he could have easily miracled them away. No, he didn’t want to. He wanted it to hurt, and keep hurting and hurting until Someone knows when. An emotional cocktail of guilt, regret, self-satisfaction, and relief swirled within him.

Yesterday, they had saved the world. Well, technically Adam had saved the world but Crowley & friends get credit for being supporting players. For the last eleven years, Crowley felt that his life had a purpose: to raise the Antichrist to be neither good nor evil, but unequivocally human. And although that plan went to shit almost immediately, Crowley didn’t know that until recently, and so that’s what kept him going. It kept him from wanting to hurt; he had something too important to do to allow his brain to go there, and his mind was always occupied. And then there was Warlock. He would be lying if he said he didn’t care deeply about the boy, Antichrist or not, and for some reason he couldn’t explain, that made a difference in his self-injurious tendencies.

Today, he woke up empty. No purpose, no reason to keep going, not even a job to do anymore. There was Aziraphale, but you can only spend so much time pining over someone who will never love you back. And so last night, after the Ritz, when he realized that it was about to be The First Day of the rest of his very empty life, he reverted back to the version of himself that hadn’t surfaced in eleven years, and it felt great. 

He climbed out of bed and headed for the shower automatically. He didn’t have anywhere to be, or any reason to get ready, but he headed there anyway. The water steamed around him and he couldn’t keep his eyes off his cuts, feeling so regretful and proud and relieved all at the same time. He tried not to think about the fact that he would have nothing to do after this shower. Maybe he could just stay in here for a few millennia…

Thankfully, Aziraphale chose to do what he did best that day and saved Crowley, albeit unknowingly. The demon had just pulled on his unnecessarily tight pants when there came a gentle, angelic knock on the door. Crowley’s heart skipped a beat that it didn’t need in the first place and he opened the door far too quickly, startling the angel on the other side.

“Oh! Hello, Crowley,” said Aziraphale, smiling nervously.

“Hallo, angel. Miss me already?” Crowley did his best to sound casual, leaning against the doorframe.

“Oh, well, I mean - I just thought - it might be wise for us to discuss everything that happened yesterday. It was an awful lot to process.”

“‘Course, ‘course, come in,” Crowley agreed, stepping aside and gesturing dramatically for Aziraphale to enter his flat. “Make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.” Aziraphale looked around nervously and settled on the somewhat-uncomfortable-but-very-stylish couch while Crowley started making tea. He may have been a demon but he also knew how to be a good host. 

Silence hung in the air until Crowley placed two steaming mugs between them, with no intention of touching his own, obviously. He sprawled on the other end of the couch and raised his eyebrows at the angel. “Well?”

Aziraphale cleared his throat. “Well, um, I just thought we might discuss our…our current relationship and…what we ought to do now that all of this -“ he gestured vaguely “- is over.” 

If Crowley’s eyebrows crept any higher they would be lost in his modern, sticky-uppy hair. “Our…relationship?” he repeated, trying to come up with a fitting snarky retort but failing because all he wanted was for Aziraphale to use that word again.

“Well, yes, I - I was thinking that now that we don’t have anyone watching us, at least for a while, that we might…”

“Might what, angel?”

“Well, I know that it’s a rather human thing, but…I’ve found myself becoming more and more human-like over the last few thousand years, and well…I’m attracted to you, Crowley!” He huffed out this last part anxiously. “And, if you’ll have me, I’d very much like to alter the rules of our ‘Arrangement.’ Do close your mouth, Crowley,” he added.

Crowley shut his jaw, which had been hanging open for about the last 30 seconds, and continued staring at Aziraphale. “I…I don’t - I…”

Aziraphale groaned. “Oh no, I hope I haven’t completely misread the situation. I rather thought you felt the same way, but from the way you’re looking at me I fear I -“ 

“Yes, angel!” Crowley finally regained the power of speech. “Yes, I want to be with you, I’ve always wanted to be with you, how could I not want to be with you?” He didn’t know what he was saying but his heart was pounding and he was utterly in shock.

“Oh, really?” Crowley didn’t think it was possible for Aziraphale to light up any more - he was already the brightest spot in any room he walked into - but he did. “Oh, how wonderful. In that case, I - I would very much like to kiss you, if that’s alright.”

“Oh, angel, you needn’t ask,” Crowley breathed.

And then Aziraphale was there, closer than he had ever been, and their lips were pressed together and it was more than Crowley ever could have imagined. It was perfect. Dare he think, it was heaven. The tender, soft kiss ended as Aziraphale pulled away, and Crowley was disappointed, but not for long. They looked into each other’s eyes and an understanding passed between them, and suddenly Aziraphale’s lips were back on his. But this time, it was different. That soft tenderness was replaced by a wanting aggression, fueled by 6,000 years of unspoken emotion. Crowley let his forked tongue slip into Aziraphale’s soft mouth, which the angel opened in acceptance, moaning softly. Two hands ran through Crowley’s hair, making him feel as if his bones were melting. Their human bodies were reacting appropriately, with both of them hardening quickly. 

Crowley broke away and asked breathlessly, “Bedroom?” Aziraphale nodded and Crowley practically dragged him off of the couch and into his room. Aziraphale pushed Crowley onto his back and straddled him, beginning to pull of his own layers of clothing, of which there were many. Crowley watched, breathing heavily, still unable to believe that his oldest dream was coming true.

Once Aziraphale was half naked he moved to start undressing Crowley, and in the last moment before his shirt came off he remembered the scars that littered his corporation, thinking especially about the fresh cuts all over his arms. He closed his eyes and waited for Aziraphale’s reaction, which was delayed. He didn’t see them at first, or else didn’t know what he was looking at, but soon his brain caught up with eyes and he froze, no longer breathing (not that this was an issue). 

“Crowley? What’s…what’s this?”

Crowley squeezed his eyes tighter and winced. “I’m sorry, angel, I forgot to…it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He reached for Aziraphale to start kissing him again but the angel pulled away.

“Of course I’m going to worry about it! Did you…do this to yourself?” He moved his hand as if to miracle the cuts and scars away.

“No!” Crowley said quickly, grasping Aziraphale’s hand in his own. “I mean, yes, I did. But don’t…get rid of them. Please.”

“Crowley…” Aziraphale said warily. “We have to talk about this.” He changed positions so that he was sitting on the bed next to Crowley. 

“No, we don’t! Come back here, just forget about it.” Crowley sat up and reached for the angel again, who just pulled away again.

“You know I can’t do that, Crowley. You are my best friend, you are the most important being in existence to me, and I love you. Oh don’t look at me with those wide eyes, you must have realized by now that I love you. I need to know what is causing you to do this to yourself and how I can make sure that it never happens again.” He reached for Crowley this time, bringing him in to a soft, warm hug. It should be noted that Crowley had never experienced a hug before; hugging isn’t common practice in Hell and the few humans that Crowley had tempted with lust over the years hadn’t been interested in the romance aspect of it all. Hence, being wrapped in such a warm, loving embrace caused Crowley’s carefully constructed emotional wall to shatter, and he collapsed into a sobbing mess in Aziraphale’s arms. 

Aziraphale did all the right things, of course. He kissed the top of his head, rubbed his back, and rocked back and forth, telling him that it was going to be alright and that he would be there for as long as Crowley needed. Neither of them knew how long it was, but it didn’t matter very much. They had all the time in the world now.


End file.
